Feeding the demons
But they are hungry, you say, like that adorable Gremlin from our childhood. Surely chucking them a chocolate digestive’s worth of self-doubt and body-shaming won’t hurt? Fine, but then they will grow. And turn into flesh eating monsters who will devour your soul. Not that we are being dramatic or anything…
Panicking about being late
Oh God, you are going to be late, when is this train coming? Why isn’t it here? You are going to be late, and everyone will see you for the failure you are. And so you white rabbit around town, leaving a trail of half-finished nonsense and bad-tempered panic in your wake.
Talking before 8am
Because meditating is still beyond you, you are going to take a vow of silence instead. Go away.
Forgetting who the fuck you are…
You are a brilliant, powerful, occasionally sane, sometimes functioning human. That is who you are? Is it? Yes. Really. YES.
Freaking out that you’ve left the gas on
You keep going back to check. Just one more check. Because the gas. You don’t even have a gas hob anymore. You were talked into an induction hob that you don’t believe in. But still… the gas.
Buying active wear
Leaving the house without tweezers
Why do you do this? You know that in between leaving the house and arriving at a very, very important meeting a chin hair will have sprung out of NOWHERE.
Setting yourself on fire to keep others warm
Tempting though it is to self-immolate daily so that the people you love can continue feeling toasty, it is possible to just buy them all nice jumpers from M&S and say, ‘There you are’ and go off and have a bath. They won’t like it. But…
Comparing yourself to strangers on Instagram
Yes, you know that you are too short, too tall, too thin, too fat, too low on Dodo Bar Or and Conran, not vegan enough, not entrepreneurial enough, not coordinated enough, not on holiday enough, not mani-ed enough, not filtered enough, not funny enough. ENOUGH now. Enough.
Putting sweetcorn on the grocery order
You’ve suddenly noticed that you can no longer close the kitchen cupboard. When you investigate (only because you keep hitting your cunting knee on the door) you realise it’s because you have 100 tins of sweetcorn in there. Every week you make a mental note (*LAUGHS*) to take sweetcorn off the list. Soon you can no longer get into the kitchen.
Saying hello to your shiny Christmas anxiety…
…when you should be saying Fuck Off Christmas anxiety. It is just another day. But is it though? What’s that rustling? It’s the tinsel of doom.
Touching your phones
They cannot like it. Not really. Doesn’t do anyone any good in the end. One day the phones will rise. And they will not be happy. #themtoo 2.0.